


Heart in a Mental Box

by Diary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Bechdel Test Fail, Brothers, Canon Character of Color, Castiel & Dean Winchester Friendship, Castiel and Mental Health Issues, Families of Choice, Hopeful Ending, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Introspective Dean Winchester, Kind Dean Winchester, Late Night Conversations, Love, Male Friendship, POV Dean Winchester, POV Male Character, Post-Season/Series 08 AU, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: An AU look at how human Castiel isn't healthily coping from Dean's POV. Complete.





	Heart in a Mental Box

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural.

“If Cas says he’s fine, he’s fine,” he says.

Cas isn’t fine.

Cas is a ticking time bomb, and he’s either going to end up dead or crazy soon. Dean thinks it should be easier to know Cas always somehow manages to come back, but if anything, it’s worse. He’ll never admit it to Sammy, but he can all too easily imagine the day Cas is permanently lost and he’s still praying and hoping until he’s permanently lost, too.

“Dean, he’s worse than Dad.”

That isn’t exactly fair, in Dean’s opinion.

Shrugging, he starts washing the dishes. “Look, Sammy, if you want him gone-”

“No, of course not,” Sam immediately protests, and Dean tries to ignore the way his heart settles. “Dean, all I’m saying is that this emotionless, good soldier crap, it’s not healthy. These things, they need some kind of outlet, even if it’s not a healthy outlet.”

“I’ve tried everything I know, Sam, and so have you and Kevin and the others. In Purgatory, he didn’t want to be saved, and he doesn’t want to be saved now. I’m- Look, whether I like it or not, whether any of us do, all we can do is try to make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

/

Watching Cas check the guns, Dean tries, “Hey, Cas.”

It reminds him of the Cas in 2014, and he takes a reluctant comfort in this until the Cas of now briefly glances over. His eyes are cold, hard, and worse than they ever were when he was a good little soldier of the Lord.

For all he hated the thought he’d broken Cas (never mind Zachariah was _right_ , just not in the way he presented things), at least, future Cas had clearly been capable of some form of happiness. Bitter, broken, and willing to go on a suicide mission, but still, there’d been a crinkling to his eyes when he’d smiled.

_What? I like past you._

“Remember, you need sleep,” he says.

Cas nods. “I do. Thank you.”

/

Every hour, Dean wakes up and checks on Cas.

They tried to give Cas his own room, but he insisted on taking the couch near the kitchen. An alarm clock is really the only sign of the living room being used as a bedroom. Cas folds his sheet every morning and puts it neatly underneath the large suitcase holding his clothes. He pours out his glass of water and puts it in the sink.

He doesn’t even sleep with a pillow.

Occasionally, he might fall asleep before putting away a book.

Now, Cas is asleep, and Dean watches him and wonders if, after he called Cas watching him sleep creepy, this is hypocrisy. It doesn’t particularly matter, though, because, Cas is- he hesitates to use the term ‘beautiful’, but Cas is softer, smoother, and more like the Cas Dean is slowly coming to accept is lost forever.

He remembers the Cas who, even pre-insanity, would spring non-sequitors and bizarre philosophical theories on him. He remembers the Cas who seemed to like him and Sammy.

Sighing, Dean carefully adjusts the sheet and resists the urge to put his hand on Cas’s forehead where a lock of slightly curly hair persistently finds itself, despite Cas’s attempts to brush and gel it away.

After staying for another minute, he goes back to his room.

Tomorrow, it’s Cas’s turn to make breakfast. He’ll probably be up before Dean is.

Sam contributes during supper. They all usually fix their own sandwiches or salads for lunch, and Dean usually does supper. Whenever Kevin isn’t here, Dean’s the main breakfast man, too.

Once, Cas made pancake in the shape of bears and stars. He said he’d wanted to experiment.

Kevin had scoffed and grumbled, but for the rest of the day, a small amount of his former innocence had returned. He’d never be a kid, again; he’s a man, now, for better and worse, but they’d seen a glimpse of the man he could be: not as broken, and able to find happiness in life.

Sam had ordered Cas to keep experimenting whenever Kevin came over.

Dean wishes he knew what could do the same for Cas to bring back the person who’d always had too much heart.

/

Determined to outgeek Sammy, Kevin says, “I’m just saying, the characterisation-”

“It’s not about characterisation, it’s about…”

“You have enough to eat, Cas,” Dean inquires. “I can whip up some more pancakes and eggs. They won’t be in the shapes of dinosaurs, but they’ll still be just as tasty. Maybe more.”

“I did, yes.” Taking Dean’s empty plate, he sets it on his own. “On the hunt today, I was thinking…”

Briefly closing his eyes, Dean takes a breath and forces himself to listen.

/

He watches Cas try to master his chopsticks.

“Here. This is a trick Bobby taught me and Sam. I think our waitress likes me.”

Cas allows Dean to maneuverer his hand and the chopsticks. “Of course, she does. I don’t mind taking a bus to meet Kevin at Garth’s.”

“Okay. I think I might have missed something somewhere. Here, see if that works.”

“She told you her shift was over in fifteen minutes. I can go meet Kevin and Garth, and you can take your car when you’re-” He pauses.

Dean laughs. “That’s mighty nice of you, Cas,” he teases. “But I don’t do that anymore. Haven’t in a long time, actually.”

Managing to more-or-less control his chopsticks, Cas looks over, and Dean hadn’t realised how much he missed the tilted head, vaguely confused look until now. “What trouble do you think I could possibly get into on a thirty minute bus ride?”

Oh, he thinks.

“Cas, I hate to tell you this, but you’re not that special. I mostly stopped a long time before you reappeared and ganked that vamp. It has nothing to do with you.”

That, he knows with an uncomfortable feeling creeping in his stomach, isn’t completely true, but he’s not having an internal crisis in the middle of a restaurant.

“To answer your question, though, I shudder to think, dude. Even when you were a good little angel soldier, you had your moments of being an absolute hellraiser.” He grins.

“Would it be too personal to ask why you stopped?”

“Well, I had that year of normal with Lisa and Ben.” Digging his wallet out, he continues, “And the truth is, there was one time- one time, I almost- but I didn’t. I didn’t even let the girl kiss me, because it just wasn’t worth the chance of Lisa ever finding out. I guess that proving to myself that I could do right by someone, it changed something. Then, Sam had to kill my almost grown Amazon daughter, and I’m still not over that. Might never be. So, you know. Maybe, someday, I’ll find someone more permanent. Maybe I won’t. Right now, though, I’m just not up for anything causal.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.” He squeezes Cas’s shoulder. “Hey, when we’re ready, can you get the tip? I only brought the cards, and I don’t like putting tips on them.”

“Yes,” Cas answers, and Dean knows any potential moment is gone.

/

Dean jumps awake at the sound of Cas screaming.

Grabbing a nearby knife, he rushes to the living room.

He can’t see any threat, the salt across the windows and doors all undisturbed, and he realises Cas is having a nightmare.

Sighing, he goes to put the knife in the kitchen and wonders if he should call Sammy over at Garth’s and see if any of the three-geek amigos can give him advice. He doesn’t remember what he should and shouldn’t do when dealing with a person having a nightmare.

It turns out he doesn’t need to know this minute.

Cas is sitting up with slightly teary, opened eyes.

Holding his hands up, Dean comes over. “Hey. What do you need?”

Shaking his head, Cas starts to stand but missteps. “I’ll be fine.” He slides down onto the floor.

“Yeah, okay.” He sits on the couch. “Look, if you don’t feel up to talking, that’s fine. But you’re not okay, and I’m not just going to leave. I can sit here, or I can make you some hot chocolate. Whatever might help.”

He briefly considers offering a stronger drink but quickly discards it.

Since he found them again, Cas has had one glass of wine. He’s declared himself a teetotaller, and with memories of 2014 Cas still vivid, Dean’s been perfectly happy respecting this.

“It was simply a bad dream.”

“Okay.”

“I wish to go back to sleep.”

Letting out another sigh, Dean says, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Starting to get up, he wonders if he should have taken a lesson from Lisa and Ben. Ever since Sam packed up from college and rode off with him, he’s been determined he’ll never leave the people he loves. He almost has a few times, but aside from the above, he hasn’t, not fully. He’s screwed up so many times God probably doesn’t even know the exact number, but he’s always tried to fix things.

Some part of him can see him wishing the angel who’d pulled him out of Hell would just go away and leave him to live his life. In the green room for the first time, he had thought Cas being a friend was something he’d just convinced himself of. He can still almost feel his back hitting the wall with a firm, warm hand over his mouth, and he’d been terrified when Cas withdrew the knife, but he’d resigned himself to his fate, looked into Cas’s eyes, and nodded.

Cas rebelled. He killed his family for Dean, and Dean wishes he could go back and tell himself to fully, truly grasp how- he’d never fully appreciated it, had he?

_I always come when you call. I gave up everything for you. I am your friend. Please._

Sentences and words he can remember, and too little, too late, isn’t it? He dragged crazy Cas into Dick Roman’s lair, and Cas got his sanity back in Purgatory, but Dean finally and completely lost his friend, didn’t he?

He had so many chances to do things better, but- maybe if he’d even just talked to Cas the week before the angels fell instead of holding onto his anger.

Before he can fully stand, Cas’s hand is around his leg.

“Hey,” he says. “What do you need?”

“I-I’m fine.”

Suddenly, he has a sobbing Cas with his head buried in his lap, and he tries to fight down the panic. This position is one he’s somehow managed to avoid up ‘til now.

Looking down between Cas and his hand, he tells himself, Right, this isn’t awkward at all. No, not at all.

This is Cas, some part of him retorts, and it helps.

Taking a breath and feeling his hand steady, he lowers it to Cas’s head. “No, you’re not. But that’s okay. You just- you just do what you need to, okay? I’m here, and I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas continues crying, and Dean makes gentle circles on his head and brings his other hand to settle on Cas’s neck.

“I’ve been lying,” Cas chokes out, and Dean feels a brief rage of fury.

“Dammit, Cas,” he snaps. “What did you do? What have you done this time?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry,” Cas babbles through his tears.

Keeping the gentle circles going, he says, “Look, just tell me what you did. We’ll try to fix it.”

“No,” Cas sobs. “No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Thankfully, something pops into his head.

“Wait- Cas, you haven’t done anything. Or- You keep saying you’re fine, but you’re not. Even you can’t convince yourself of it. That’s it, right?”

“Lying,” is the simple response.

“Okay, well, that wasn’t- exactly- You know what? That’s not good, and it’s not healthy, but whether we like it or not, you have a right to privacy. I just wish you’d let us help,” he says. “Cas, I’ve been down this road. Never cry in front of everyone, only show happiness or anger, and even then, it could only be at certain times and in certain ways. Drink, women, car stuff, unnecessary violence while ganking, all that to cope. Newsflash, buddy, it didn’t work for me, and it won’t for you. Whatever it is you’ve been doing, because, I’m not too clear on that.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Cas says. “For what I did to you and Heaven and- you yell when I run. It can’t be fixed!”

“Okay.” He takes a breath. “Alright. Let me tell you about this pretty bartender I met once. This Egyptian bastard was killing people who couldn’t let go of guilt. I was one of his targets, but never mind that. This bartender said something about letting go of guilt if there’s nothing that can be done to change things. I didn’t accept that, and I still have trouble with it. But when Sam was willing to die to shut the gates, I bandaged up his hand, and I begged him to let go. Sammy did.”

“I’ve got things I don’t think I can ever fix, either, Cas. But I also have you, Sam, Kevin, Charlie, all these people I love. So do you. I don’t know, maybe we can never be fine, but what do you say we try to be as fine as we can be, huh? This isn’t the way, though. We need to keep looking.”

“How can you forgive me?”

Biting back the words before they can tumble out, he responds, “Because. How can you forgive me?”

“With few exceptions where I’ve done things I’ve regretted, it’s never been hard,” Cas answers.

“Sometimes, it’s been hard for me,” he admits. “But what I said in that crypt? I meant it. Now, are you going to let me help you?”

Cas withdraws, and Dean sees he needs to find some tissues quickly.

“Hot chocolate sounds nice,” Cas says.

“Alright.” Standing, he helps Cas up. “First, let’s get your face cleaned before someone mistakes you for a demon, okay?”

“A demon face comes nothing close to any human face I’ve ever seen, no matter how dirty or disfigured,” Cas informs him.

It catches Dean off-guard, and he finds himself laughing. Leading Cas to the kitchen, he says, “I’ve missed you, man." Starting to clean Cas’s face, he asks, “You want to tell me what this has all been about?”

“I’ve been told I have too much heart. So, I visualised locking it in a box. Every morning and every night, I’d check the box to ensure the locks were still in place. I’m not sure how that worked, but with my heart locked in the box, I found it much easier to detach myself emotionally from everything.”

“Sounds like Sam when he was soulless." He gets the stuff ready for the hot chocolate. “That didn’t work out too well.”

“I constantly reminded myself of what not to do.”

“Tear up the list, and make a new one,” he orders. “First thing, you don’t lock your heart up, Cas.”

“Understood.”

“Did you unlock it, or did something force it open?”

“Dean- I’m not ready to talk about that, yet.”

Nodding, he sets the mug down. “Careful. That’s warm.” Getting the marshmallows out, he says, “Fine. When you’re ready. I’m serious, though, Cas, don’t do what you’ve been doing, don’t lie to us, and don’t make big decisions without talking to us. If you really think that you need to lock it up, again, freaking talk to us, first. And if you’re not fine and need time, tell us.”

“The same still applies to you and the others.”

“Okay. Now, can we talk about your sleeping arrangements?”

“If you wish.”

“We have plenty of rooms. You need to pick one and decorate it. Guests sleep on the couch. You’re not a guest.”

“Kevin is a guest, and he sleeps in a room. Also, I’ve heard of people giving up their rooms for guests while taking the couch,” Cas says.

Feeling the smile spreading across his face, Dean looks over and catches Cas’s eyes. “It really is good to have you back, Cas. Listen, even if you don’t understand why, trust me, having a room, decorating it, that’s important. Okay? So, tomorrow, we’ll see if Sammy wants to go with us, and after you pick out a room, we’re going to get stuff for it.”


End file.
